Developing the Picture
by Mele
Summary: An alternate ending to the episode "The Girl Next Door"...why would anyone consider it to be standard procedure to arrest the victim of a crime? Jim learns just what Blair endured.


**_Disclaimer:_** _The Sentinel and all its parts and components belong to Pet Fly, Inc. No harm is intended by this non-profit bit of fiction._

 ** _Notes, Timeline, Warning:_** _This is in response to the Sentinel Angst 5_ _th_ _Anniversary challenge to write a story based on a missing scene/epilog written by the list mom, Dawn. This particular little bit is an epilog to her epilog to "The Girl Next Door" titled "Mugshot of an Anthropologist". Obviously, this story will contain spoilers for The Girl Next Door g. It is rated PG, for a naughty word or two._

 **Developing the Picture**

By Mele

Peace had descended at last upon the loft at 852 Prospect; Simon and Joel had headed toward their respective homes, leaving Jim to finish the cleanup after their gourmet dinner. Blair had wandered into his bedroom shortly before the two captains left, and ever since Jim had shot the occasional worried glance at the closed French doors. The Sentinel had caught the quick gleam of humor in his Guide's eyes when Blair had told them the secret ingredient in his dessert, and he knew that their reactions had given the younger man some small measure of satisfaction. But that had quickly faded, and the expressive blue eyes of the anthropologist were shuttered and dark when he'd excused himself and gone to his room.

Ellison knew the whole scene at the police station ticked Blair off, and upon reflection the detective couldn't really blame him. Having a victim arrested was hardly standard procedure, and the observer knew that as well as anyone else. But, what the grad student hadn't heard was Iris accusing Blair of being involved, of being a willing participant. With that in mind, Jim and Simon had decided the best course of action would be to go ahead and arrest Blair, just so no one could accuse them of improper procedure.

That they believed the action might cause their younger friend to stop and consider things more carefully in the future was just an added bonus.

Still, with the immediate threat removed, and having had a chance to come down from the fear-motivated adrenalin rush, Jim was now regretting that decision. He considered Blair's comment about the humiliation of being booked, and unhappily he realized that they might well have undermined Blair's efforts at being accepted at the precinct. His Sentinel hearing had allowed him to overhear far too many uncomplimentary comments during Sandburg's first few weeks as an observer. 'Hippie', 'fag', 'druggie' or 'kike' were some of the 'kinder' terms used, and it didn't take a genius to know Blair had heard most of the comments; whether he'd been meant to or not was anybody's guess at this point.

Ellison's admiration for his Guide had increased as he watched the anthropologist steadfastly ignore his naysayers and gradually win over almost all of them. Granted, there were a few die-hards who refused to look past Sandburg's unconventional appearance and see the man for who and what he truly was; an intelligent, brave, resourceful asset to the force. But even those few had ceased the comments and lapsed into silently ignoring the observer. Now, with the news of his arrest – even though he was immediately cleared of any charges – the comments were almost guaranteed to start up again.

Finished with the cleanup, Jim took a beer and sat down on the couch in the darkened loft, leaning his head back wearily. It had been an exhausting day, after a sleepless night, and these guilty thoughts were not helping him any. Blair would forgive him, he knew that – or at least, he believed that. His gaze fell on the beige envelope Simon had brought over with him. With a sigh he picked up the package and opened it, removing the audiocassette inside. While Simon and Jim had been assisting in collating the statements of Chance, Parkman and Iris, Brown had been interviewing Blair in Simon's office.

Reaching over to the side table, he found the Walkman Blair kept in there to use when listening to class tapes. After ensuring the batteries were charged and the tape rewound, he settled back to listen; feet up and cool beer in hand.

Though Jim had worked with Henri Brown for several years, he rarely worked closely with the younger man, so he was unfamiliar with Brown's method in dealing with victims. The only time Ellison did a joint interview with H was when they needed to play 'Bad Cop/Badder Cop' with a suspect, so the Sentinel was surprised to hear the gentleness in the big man's voice as he made sure Blair was alright and aware of his rights before they got started.

Slowly, with none of his trademark loquaciousness, Blair told how he'd met Iris, his plans for a 'romantic' dinner, Iris's call and their detour to Heights Store. Sentinel hearing could pick up the increase in Blair's heart rate even through the tape when he described Chance's encounter with Parkman and their panicked exit from the parking lot.

 _Brown: Iris had a gun as well?_

 _Sandburg: Yeah. Guess it was in her purse, I didn't think it would be smart to ask._

 _Brown: No, probably not. Where'd you go from there?_

 _Sandburg: Well, at first we headed out on 97. Iris and Chance were discussing … arguing … about what to do with the heroin. Finally they decided her brother could make a deal for them, but Iris couldn't get him on the phone. Said he sometimes went out, so they'd best wait. She told me to drive into this used-car lot, and park in the far end. From the road the Volvo wouldn't be noticeable and would look like one of the cars for sale. Then they made me get out … and I thought …choked gasp_

 _Brown: Hey, Blair, you okay?_

 _Sandburg: Yeah, yeah … ahem … they made me get in the trunk. Guess they were worried that I'd cause them problems. Oh, man, it was so close in there, you know. And they were arguing again in the car, then they started making out right there in the back seat. I mean, they may as well have been in my lap, you know? And to think I was going to date her! God. Now I'm thinking I'm going to have to have the Volvo steam-cleaned inside. So, to get back to it, I don't know how long we stayed there, but I think it was daylight when they started the car and took off. Wasn't long before we stopped, on Highway 35 this time. Guess Chance needed a pit stop and Iris finally got through to her brother and set up the sale …_

Jim felt sick as he realized that while he and Joel were warm and comfortable staking out a strip joint, Blair was trussed up in a small trunk unsure if he was going to live or die. What was that blithe comment he'd made to Simon after he'd id'ed Iris? Oh, yeah … 'how much could happen in one night?' … well, apparently, plenty.

Blair's listless voice took on a bit more life when he described his renewed hope when the sheriff pulled out behind him, only to have his optimism crushed when the officer stopped at the scene of that accident. Ellison felt a jolt of dismay at realizing how close he'd actually been to Blair at that point, only to lose him.

Moments later the former Special Ops officer felt his rage build as his Guide's gentle voice described how Chance threatened to kill him by the side of the highway. Only Iris's intervention had spared Blair's life … well, that and Parkman's imminent arrival. Sandburg sounded little more than perplexed when he told Henri how Parkman insisted he come along, telling him that unless he got his heroin back Blair would be killed.

Brown: Man, sounds like Parkman was bad news.

 _Sandburg: You have no idea. He lost the Volvo, though damned if I know how; it's not like it could outrace Parkman's sedan. Anyway, he pulled into this old, deserted rest stop and pulled me out of the car and shoved me against the closed car door. His eyes … his eyes were so cold. Mean. He put his gun to my throat and demanded to know where Iris and Chance had gone. I tried to … clears throat I tried to tell him … I didn't know where they had gone. But he didn't believe me. Then … then …_

 _Brown: Easy, Blair, it's over, you're safe now. Parkman's in custody and he can't get to you. What happened?_

 _Sandburg: He pulled the trigger…_

Jim's heart stuttered as Blair's words registered. "He pulled the trigger." Four little words, imbued with inhuman power. What was that? The third … fourth? … time Blair had a gun pointed at him with lethal intent? Henri's horrified voice brought his attention back to the tape.

 _Brown: He pulled the trigger?_

 _Sandburg: Yeah._

 _Brown: And you didn't need to change your clothes after that?_

 _Sandburg: It was close, man. If I'd had anything to eat or drink in the previous twelve hours it might have gotten laugh_

 _Brown: You got some kind of courage, Kid. Did he finally believe you?_

 _Sandburg: After he replaced the clip and put it back at my throat …_

Blair continued his narrative, explaining how he got away from Parkman only to end up back in the clutches of Iris and her brother. Iris, who led Blair on, then used him, then actually shot at him. Iris, whose 'master plan' was to smuggle the drugs into Canada. A desire was growing by leaps and bounds within the Sentinel to go pay a visit to Iris and make sure she could NEVER get to his Guide ever again. He made a mental note to thank H tomorrow for his compassionate handling of the interview.

Sandburg's voice was waning now, obviously growing tired of telling his tale. And this part he was more familiar with, especially after having heard Iris and Parkman's statements. As Blair described Jim's arrival on the scene, Ellison's mind played back that moment as he looked down the walkway and saw Iris Johnson preparing to kill one of the best things in his life. If he'd missed … or if they'd been just a minute or two later in arriving … he'd be arranging Sandburg's funeral, not listening to his official statement.

As his anger and fears of the last day and a half surged anew, Jim yanked the headphones off, tossing the Walkman onto the coffee table. He ran his hands wearily over his face, waiting for the maelstrom of emotion inside him to settle. Ellison understood, intellectually, that Blair was not to blame for what happened; that the student was by nature and inclination willing to believe the best of people. But despite that knowledge, the detective still felt anger at how close his Guide, his roommate … his FRIEND … had come to dying needlessly.

Sandburg might have been surprised to find out that Jim had a very vivid imagination; though it certainly made sense that he'd be able to mentally visualize very well, given his enhanced sensory input. Now that ability worked against him, as all too easily he could imagine driving up and finding Blair's bullet-riddled corpse in the tall grass along Highway 35. Or discovering it nestled amidst the bags of trash behind the terminal; the boundless enthusiasm and limitless potential that was Blair Sandburg, reduced to gory refuse by a few ounces of lead.

He was startled from his thoughts by a soft sound and opened his eyes to see his disheveled roommate wandering out of his small bedroom.

"You okay, Chief?" he asked, his eyes going wide when Blair gasped and jumped, nearly falling.

"Jim! God, scare me, why don't you? What are you doing out here?" the anthropologist asked, one hand unconsciously over his racing heart.

"Just thinking. Are you okay?" he repeated.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Well, you know, maybe not fine, exactly, but okay. Just couldn't get to sleep, thought some tea would help. Want any?" he queried, rattling around in the kitchen with the teakettle and canisters.

"No thanks."

Silence reigned for a few minutes, as Sandburg made his tea and Jim watched him from the corner of his eye. The younger man looked pretty ragged around the edges, and guilt surged anew. The Sentinel noticed the fragrance of the tea blend Blair had selected; recognizing it as being not the one the student used to help him sleep, but the one that he chose when his stomach was acting up. It hadn't exactly escaped the detective's attention that Blair had skipped dinner after refusing their repeated offers of a sandwich or soup at the precinct.

"When's the last time you ate anything, Chief?" he inquired.

"Uh … yesterday I had an apple and some crackers for lunch."

"Maybe the reason your stomach is acting up is because it's demanding food," the older man suggested.

"No way, man; this is SO not hunger. And what makes you think my stomach is acting up?" Blair demanded.

Ellison raised a suggestive eyebrow and glanced at the mug in his Guide's hand as the student sat down on his favorite chair. Blair blushed lightly in embarrassment.

"Well, duh, guess I should have figured that."

They both turned their attention to the view of the city outside the loft; the silence grew uncomfortable between them, until Blair finally blurted out his question.

"Why?"

Jim had the decency to not bother pretending to misunderstand the question, and he sighed deeply before answering.

"Well, partly to ensure there'd be no accusations of favoritism," he told his friend.

"Bullshit."

Jim's face registered mild surprise at the unusual expletive. "Okay, so maybe that wasn't the only reason," the capitulated.

"What was really going on in that head of yours, Jim? 'Cause, I gotta tell you, I didn't expect to be arrested. Did you really think I had something to do with the drugs?"

"God, no, Chief. We knew you were clean. No … We thought it might … maybe … teach you a lesson about trusting people, maybe make you a little more careful," he admitted.

"You wanted to 'teach me a lesson?' I'm not five, Ellison, and you're not my dad," the younger man growled, glaring at the detective.

"I know, I know! It's just … damnit … we … *I* was scared, Chief. It was way too close this time."

"YOU were scared? How do you think ***I*** felt? Do you KNOW how many times I had a gun pointed at me? Do you?" Sandburg demanded, the hands holding his tea trembling with his emotions.

"Yeah, I do. I … uh … I listened to the tape of your statement," Jim admitted, indicating the Walkman on the table. "I'm sorry, Chief. I realize what we did was wrong."

Blair huffed out his breath, leaning back into the chair, suddenly unutterably weary. "I was so glad to see you, you know? I mean, I don't know how you did it, but you showing up then was like a miracle. All the fear, all the horror, of what they'd put me through just faded away when I saw you there. I was ready to just collapse, thinking 'now I'm safe, Jim's here' … and what do you do? You send me chasing after Iris, after making a joke about gourmet meals. And I thought 'well, that's just Jim, he doesn't do emotional scenes well', but when you and Simon told me I was under arrest? That hurt, Jim. It hurt a lot."

Ellison leaned toward his Guide, resting his elbows on his knees, his face furrowed with unhappiness. "I know. Now. But at the time? Look, Blair, I wish more than anything that I could have a 'do over' for this afternoon, but I can't. All I can say is that I'm sorry, and to promise next time to remember I'm not in charge of your life or decisions."

Blair released a soul-weary sigh as he contemplated his best friend, understanding the detective was sincere. "I'm going to hold you to that, Jim. I can't go through this again; it hurts to damn much." He felt the load on his heart lighten as he offered his Sentinel a forgiving look and small smile, pleased to see the older man return it in kind.

"You have my word; from now on I'll consider your point of view before just reacting to a situation."

The End


End file.
